“There are sheep in the road!” she screamed. “What?” I replied. With her voice ten octaves higher, my daughter Sarah yelled, “There are sheep on the road!” Calmly, I retorted, “I don’t see any shee . . .p!” “Wow, that was a close one,” I exclaimed as I slammed on the brakes. Sure as anything, there were sheep in the road. They were really on the side of the road, but from where my daughter sat, I guess they looked like they were closer to the middle of the road. There was a fold, (I guess you call them a fold . . . they did in Biblical times). They had big x’s painted on them. Pink x’s. Blue x’s. Someone we met explained that the color of the x’s designated what farm the sheep belonged to.
Sheep lover that I am, I stopped the car and I begin to say softly, “Here, sheep. Come to over here to me.” My daughters laughed at me when they heard what I had said to the sheep. But the kid in me wanted to pet one of the sheep. The sheep could have cared less if I had come all the way from America to pet them, let alone almost take their life away as I was mastering driving on the opposite side of the road. They stayed far back from the fence and barely gave me a glance. Moral of the story? Watch out for the sheep! I am sure you have heard about the sheep in Ireland. They are not storybook kind of sheep where the shepherd is seen holding his staff in his hand. They are real honest to goodness sheep who rule the road. So, if you don’t want to be wearing a wool coat with an “x” on it, go slow, and remember, “Sheep Rule.”
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